He Wasn't Heavy
by LAGC
Summary: This song always did it to him. An instant ticket back to that miserable jungle and ...the sickening slick feeling of blood oozing down his body. Not his own ... worse, it was his brother's. B.A. relives a bad day.


Disclaimer: I do not own nor did I create any of the A-team characters or episodes. The credit is due to Stephen J. Cannell and his associates.

The song used in this story is He Ain't Heavy, He's my Brother and that isn't mine either. Please see the notes at the end of the story for all the proper credit honors and citations.

Spoiler Alert: None really, this is an original work. Although it does stem from Face's revelation ( in "A Small and Deadly War, Season 1) of a gunshot wound received in Vietnam.

Authors Notes: The seed for this piece was planted in my brain by Facelove. In one of her reviews she suggested that I do a Face & B.A. story. Then when I heard this song today, the story demanded to bloom. So here it goes. I hope you enjoy it and that I followed the protocols.

Italics is for the narrator. Bold is for the lyrics. Regular is all B.A.

**He Wasn't Heavy: by LAGC. **

**000000000000000**

_The notes floated out of the speaker right above their booth in the little diner._

**The road is long**

**With many a winding turns**

**That leads us to who knows where**

**Who knows when**

DAMN!

_This song always did it to him. An instant ticket back to that miserable jungle. He could immediately feel the oppressive humidity, the swarming bugs, the sickening slick feeling of blood oozing down his body. Not his own ... worse, it was his brother's. _

NOT a flashback. I'm not trapped in my mind. This is just an unwelcome, much too vivid, memory.

Oh No! Now Murdock is humming the song, that means he'll be singing it in no time. Dang it!

Yep, there he goes, well, at least his voice is good.

Winding turns, man that's an understatement. Lord knows my life has had enough turns, too many to count. And heck Murdock has had so many twists and turns the Fool qualifies as a corkscrew roller coaster. The other guys too.

Many of those turns we've gone through together. Years and miles of spin outs - now memories. Just like the one that this DANG song always triggers.

O. K. Here comes the waitress. Got to give her my order. I don't want the guys to catch on that this song gets to me. After all, I'm the strong one.

**But I'm strong**

**Strong enough to carry him**

**He ain't heavy, he's my brother**

And he really wasn't heavy. Still ain't. But even less, then- what on army rations and missed meals. Man, the Kid was so damn light! It was like carrying a laundry sack for Momma.

_B.A. chose to stop fighting the memory. He let the images flow through his mind. _

Hannibal's plan had gone sideways like a subway in an earthquake. The classic frontal attack with a half pincer didn't fool or confuse that Viet Cong general or his men for one second. The Team was pinned under heavy fire until Hannibal launched some RPGs into the general's house and his men retreated to rescue him and his ill gotten war spoils. Hannibal ordered our own retreat just as we heard the whir of Murdock's chopper coming to the LZ. The three extra soldiers with us bolted toward the helicopter, while I stood guard ready to provide cover fire. That's when Hannibal hollered that Face had been hit.

**So on we go**

**His welfare is of my concern**

**No burden is he to bear**

**We'll get there**

I rushed to their side. Watched Hannibal hastily inspect the gushing wound on Faceman's leg. I pushed down the bile that rose in my throat at the sight of the Kid bleeding like a hunted deer, and the pained scream Face couldn't silence when Hannibal used his belt to set a tight tourniquet. "We'll need to carry him, Sergeant," Hannibal had said, but I shook my head and said,

"No! I'll carry him! You keep your hands free to provide cover," and then I reached down and easily scooped up Face.

**For I know**

**He would not encumber me**

**He ain't heavy, he's my brother**

Face had protested. He had said to put him down and leave him. He wanted us to run and save ourselves, not to risk capture because we were slowed by his weight. I just growled for Face to be quiet so we could listen for VC and to stop wasting his breath. I told the Sucka,

"There is no force on Earth that would make ME leave YOU behind!

You're my brother, man. I'm taking you out of here. End of conversation!"

We made it to the chopper without encountering any more hostiles. Face was bleeding so bad - even with the tourniquet. Murdock had gone eight shades of pale when he saw me lower our friend on the floor of the bird. Hannibal hollered the order "Go Murdock" as he leapt onto the skids.

Murdock broke all speed records back to base. I had thought to myself that if the Crazy Man had thought it would have helped, Murdock would have stood on top of the blades and flapped his own arms to get us back to base faster.

Face had gone in and out of consciousness on that flight. The medic had done everything to stem the blood loss and save Face. Faceman kept mumbling that we shouldn't have risked ourselves to carry him out. That he'd have rather died than be the reason we had gotten hurt or captured. I still remember telling him,

"You're my brother. I'll carry you out of anything - anytime I want to. Now be quiet and let the medic work."

Geez, carrying the Kid hadn't slowed me down a bit. Even if it had it didn't matter then or now.

**If I'm laden at all**

**I'm laden with sadness**

**That everyone's heart**

**Isn't filled with the gladness**

**Of love for one another**

Look at my team around this table, still together after all this time. My family.

Look at Faceman. Even today all these years later, I know that Face would still want us to leave him behind instead of risking ourselves to help him. A piece of Face still expects, no actually still believes, that he deserves to be abandoned. That he isn't worthy of commitment from anyone. Those so called parents and girlfriend that hurt Face so bad - better hope I never run into them. Miserable fools.

Oops I must have growled out loud just now. Got to cover, "SUCKA, pass the ketchup and stop playing with it like its a microphone!" Thank goodness for Murdock's foolishness. It gave me a good cover story.

**It's a long, long road**

**From which there is no return**

**While we're on the way to there**

**Why not share**

Yep, definitely no return from the road that Nam put us on.

Not that I'd want any other road. Oh sure it would be GREAT not to be wanted fugitives. To be able to see Momma regularly and have her living nearby. For everyone to be able to have regular addresses and steady girls.

But Nam put us all together and I can't imagine life without my brothers. Together we get to help the helpless and squash creeps and lowlife thugs. What else would I really want to do? And I still get to fix cars and build machines.

**And the load**

**Doesn't weigh me down at all**

**He ain't heavy he's my brother**

I wouldn't trade my brothers for anything.

**He's my brother**

**He ain't heavy, he's my brother**

**He ain't heavy, he's my brother**

Dang. That song is still stuck in my head. Just like it was all through dinner. Gonna be a long night. At least the motel is right here and I don't have to drive any farther with this distraction. It's like having Murdock in my head. Oh man, now Face is humming it!

Hey why is Face sneaking his way over to me? Wait that's his shy smile, his real smile.

"This song always gets to me too Big Guy. Thanks again for carrying me out of that jungle ... and so many others since."

"Anytime little Brother, anytime.

Now be useful and carry some of this gear outta the van.

It ain't heavy."

**Author Notes: **

"He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" is a popular music ballad written by Bobby Scott and Bob Russell. Originally recorded by Kelly Gordon in 1969, the song became a worldwide hit for The Hollies later that year and again for Neil Diamond in 1970. It has been covered by many artists in subsequent years. - Information gathered from Wikipedia. 

"The title came from the motto for Boys Town, a community formed in 1917 by a Catholic priest named Father Edward Flanagan. Located in Omaha, Nebraska, it was a place where troubled or homeless boys could come for help. In 1941, Father Flanagan was looking at a magazine called The Messenger when he came across a drawing of a boy carrying a younger boy on his back, with the caption, "He ain't heavy Mr., he's my brother." Father Information gathered from SongFacts.


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